


Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (especially the one you let get away)

by writing_as_tracey



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A post-Bughead breakup fic no one asked for, Angst, Break Up, Canon Compliant, Comedy of Errors, Denial, Drama, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Romantic Comedy, This literally channels every shojo manga and anime I have ever seen, birthday fic, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-13 19:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11191899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_as_tracey/pseuds/writing_as_tracey
Summary: On Tuesday, he broke up with her. --- It was for some stupid reason – that she would be in danger; that the Serpents were going to ask more of him than he could possibly give and she would be collateral; that she was too good for him and she deserved better – but Betty stopped listening by the third excuse.He said goodbye to her at the remnants of nostalgia and broken dreams, at the Twilight Drive-In.(This is a comedy, I swear, although plot suddenly appeared by chapter 4)





	1. 0: the Pre-Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zombiekittiez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/gifts).



> Happy birthday, [Zombiekittiez](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/pseuds/zombiekittiez)!!! I know I am a day early with the beginning of this gift, but I am busy tomorrow so I am presenting you your birthday fic early! I hope you enjoy! ❤︎
> 
> All quotes from _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes_ (1952), from Anita Loos’ novel _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes_ , a fantastic read if you ever get the chance!

*

If you’ve nothing more to say, then pray, scat! – Lorelei Lee

*

On Tuesday, he broke up with her.

It was for some stupid reason – that she would be in danger; that the Serpents were going to ask more of him than he could possibly give and she would be collateral; that she was too good for him and she deserved better – but Betty stopped listening by the third excuse.

He said goodbye to her at the remnants of nostalgia and broken dreams, at the Twilight Drive-In. It was half-demolished and what remained, filled with graffiti. Her eyes locked on the projection booth behind him, reading _Jughead wuz here_ , tracing his unique g and artsy calligraphy.

Instead, she stared blankly at her boyfriend ( _because he was still her boyfriend, despite being insecure and stupid,_ she thought furiously), watched him as he became more and more nervous, rubbing the back of his neck and scratching his nose and turning his blue eyes towards the sky.

“... You understand, right, Betts?” he finished, softly, entreatingly. “I can’t – I won’t – you’re the best thing to happen to me. Losing you to them would destroy me.”

 Betty nodded, eyes taking in the image Jughead presented: shoulders hunched, anguish in his dark blue eyes, bags under them, his ever-present beanie missing because it was traded for the cool, creaking leather of the Serpents jacket he wore instead.

She mustered up a tiny, wobbling smile, but kept her eyes dry. Silently, she turned and walked away from him – leaving him almost confused, but definitely heartbroken by her acceptance of his ending their four-month relationship.

Instead of going home, Betty turned right, and found herself standing outside the Keller residence.

She was a bit startled by it – after all, after being dumped by her boyfriend, the logical assumption would be to visit Veronica at the Pembroke while Lodge Manor was being aired out, for a bitch session.

But no – her unconscious took her to her one friend who had dated a Serpent, was also dumped by one, and walked away with his heart (mostly) intact.

Luckily, Kevin was home, and looking out his window, because he appeared before Betty, standing outside his house, eyes wide and doe-like. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her inside, setting her down on a barstool in the kitchen.

When Kevin finally slid a mug of tea in front of her, Betty looked up, around, realized where she was, and said, succinctly, “Jughead just broke up with me.”

Kevin’s mouth dropping open. “What? Oh my, God, Betty, I’m so –”

He stopped. Blinked. Looked Betty up and down, and then said, “You’re not crying. You’re... not upset?”

Betty shook her head. “No. I’m not upset. I’m _furious_.”

“Umm...”

“After everything we went through, after all I did for him and his father,” continued Betty heatedly, “He thinks he can throw us away? No way. No chance in hell. If he won’t fight for me to stay in his life, then I’ll show him.”

Kevin leaned over the kitchen island, a worried look in his dark eyes as he watched his best friend spiral. “Show him what, Betty?”

Betty’s eyes were lit with an inner fire. “My boyfriend thinks he can just let us go like that?” she snapped her fingers. “He’s got another thing coming. Oh no, he’s not breaking up with me.”

“... He’s not?” a wry twist to Kevin’s lip indicated his amusement.

“No,” replied Betty.

“... I’m guessing you have a plan?” he asked.

Betty nodded quickly.

Twenty minutes later, Kevin’s thumb hovered over Jughead’s number in his phone. Then, he shoved the phone in his pocket. _It’ll be more fun this way._

*

In a way, it was easy. Jughead no longer attended Riverdale High, and since that fateful night when the Serpents came calling and Fred Andrews was shot, he avoided the north side of Riverdale. With him not around, Betty was able to speak to Veronica, and Archie, and anyone else she needed, to explain her plan.

“It’s a terrible idea,” said Archie.

“Are you sure this isn’t you responding emotionally?” asked Veronica carefully.

“I’m really not sure what I’m doing here, crazy girl,” replied Reggie, looking around the picnic table in confusion.

Cheryl, beside him, didn’t look up from filing her blood red nails. “That makes two of us, Reggiekins.”

Kevin slammed his hand on the wooden tabletop. Everyone fell silent. “ _Look_ – this is _Betty_. Betty Cooper – the girl who never asked for anything. Who helped solve Jason’s murder; who warned you about your father Cheryl; who has _always_ been there for all of us when we needed her or not.”

A throat cleared.

“Um, I am sitting right here, you know,” said Betty quietly, raising a single hand from her positions squished between Archie and Veronica on one side of the table.

“Yes, Betty, we know,” said Kevin, loudly breathing through his nose. “And while some of you may not _like_ Jughead—” he sent a direct glare at Reggie and Cheryl, sitting next to him on his side of the table “–you can admit that he and Betty made a good couple. A _great_ couple.”

“Well, I suppose,” said Cheryl with a long-suffering sigh and an eye roll.

“Donnie Darko’s got game?” asked Reggie, turning wide eyes to Betty who slumped further on the bench and wondered if she could hide under the table until Kevin finished this intervention or whatever.

 _Honestly, it was just supposed to be a quick get-together to help me Sandy myself up to his Danny without the horrible antifeminist feels from the movie,_ thought Betty darkly.

“Oh, yes,” replied Kevin, a fanatical light in his eyes that made everyone around him shudder slightly. “And our dear, very own Princess Peach here needs her hero.”

“I really don’t like that analogy,” responded Betty quietly. “Are you implying Jug is Mario?”

Kevin spoke over her. “ _He_ does not get to dump Betty. _He_ does not decide that just because he is a Southside Serpent, he is in charge. _He_ does not get to walk away from this relationship without a fight. _He_ does not decide what is best for her.”

Archie frowned. “I don’t know, Kev – I mean, protecting Betty is kind of important. What if some Serpents try to hurt her or something?”

Kevin’s glare made Archie pale. “ _Betty_ is more than capable of taking care of herself! And stop pulling that macho jock bullshit on me, Archie Andrews!”

Veronica reached across a furiously blushing Betty to pat Archie consolingly on the shoulder.

“Kev – really, this wasn’t exactly my plan—”

“Yes, _what exactly_ was your plan, Betty dear?” asked Cheryl in a saccharine voice, eyes pulled up from her nail filer to fix on Betty’s embarrassed form. The tall, skinny redhead in designer couture arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Betty cleared her throat. “Well, my plan was to make Jug jealous—”

“ _Bzzzt!_ Wrong!” Cheryl slapped the nail filer on the picnic table and beside her; Reggie jumped and began inching closer to Kevin, who was still standing over the table. “Jughead Jones might get jealous, but he won’t _ever_ make a move. Not after the years that you spent pining after Archiekins, Betty. He’ll consider it natural progression and go and lick his wounds.”

“We could use Reggie,” suggested Veronica tentatively.

“Yeah! We could use me! Mantle the Magnificent!” said a cheery Reggie.

Cheryl eyed the tall Asian footballer and said, firmly, “No.”

Reggie deflated.

“So what’s your plan in dealing with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?” asked Kevin.

Cheryl loudly sighed. “Well, he’s not _Voldemort_ , Kevin, so let’s stop with the juvenile pop culture references, shall we? No, we need to make Jughead realize that even if he breaks things off with Betty, he’ll never be rid of her.”

A strange inner light began to appear in Cheryl’s brown eyes, and they focused on some inner thought that belied her enthusiasm as she began to speak, growing louder and louder as she did so. “She needs to invade his every waking moment, tease him daily to the point of paranoia, leave him wanting and begging to come back to her where she has all the power.”

“Fuck, you’re scary,” said Reggie, nearly cuddled up beside Kevin, who nodded emphatically beside him.

Veronica’s heavy brows drew together in a V. “Why are you being so nice to Betty, Cheryl? You live to torment her.”

Cheryl tossed her long red hair over her shoulder. Her grin was shark-like. “Why, she’s _family_.”

Betty shuddered.

“In more ways than just through my dear nephew Jay-Jay and niece Eliza,” continued Cheryl. “And I take care of my family.”

 _What remains of them_ , was left unsaid.

“Um, thank you, Cheryl,” said Betty quietly. “That’s really nice of you.”

“Whatever,” she replied, picking the filer up again, switching to the other hand.

“Well, then,” said Archie, resignedly. “What’s step one on making Jug sorry he let go of the best damn thing in this town?”

Cheryl beamed.

* * *

Elsewhere, Jughead Jones, in the middle of Southside High’s rowdy cafeteria, popped his head up from looking at his lunch tray and peered around the large room, glancing this way and that—searching for... _something_.

“What’s up, Jug?” asked a heavily tattooed teen sitting across from him.

Jughead shivered. “Nothing... I just... felt like someone walked over my grave there for a second.”

The teen laughed.

But Jughead couldn’t erase the strange feeling...

*

TBC...


	2. 1: Step One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's seen _Ouran High School Host Club_ , please note that I pictured Renge (in Monica Rial's amazing voice) as my head canon for this version of Cheryl. "Attack of the Lady Manager" fits this so well...

*

It’s just not fair. Two against one. Take a man’s pants. – Ernie Malone

*

**Step One**

“This is a terrible idea,” muttered Veronica, glancing around the Bath & Body Works store at the new Lodge-owned and Andrews Construction-built SoDale development. She, Cheryl, and Josie were lingering at a large display of the signature three-wick candles, while Val and Mel were at the soaps.

“It’s _not_ a terrible idea,” protested Cheryl, picking up another vanilla candle and holding it up at eye-level to inspect it. “Studies show that teenage boys’ brains are hardwired by scent. And we all know Betty the three B’s—”

“The what now?” Josie interrupted, cocking her hip out and frowning.

“The Three Bs,” said Cheryl in exasperation, not even upset that her close friend had interrupted her. “Boring, bland, and basic. Vanilla.”

Veronica was unimpressed. She crossed her arms. “Are you telling me, you think Betty’s scent is _vanilla_ because you think she’s boring, bland, and basic?”

Cheryl shrugged. “If it fits.”

“You know she boiled Chuck Clayton in a hot tub for ten minutes, right?” Veronica stared hard at the redhead.

In return, Cheryl winced while Josie’s mouth dropped open. Cheryl put back the vanilla candle and reached for a tropical citrusy blend instead. “Maybe a hint of exotic?”

Veronica rolled her eyes and instead reached for a different scent. She picked up the candle and thrust it at Cheryl. “I still can’t believe we’re doing a whole ‘get Jughead and Betty back together’ plan with you as our Supreme Leader.”

Cheryl snorted. “It’s better than her idea to make Jughead jealous.”

“Has he ever been jealous of anything?” asked Josie, who admittedly did not know Jughead very well. To be honest, she didn’t know Betty that well either, but she was _technically_ in the ‘Archie’s ex’ category and since Josie didn’t particular like Archie, that made Betty a-okay in her books.

Veronica paused thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. I think he went into a rage once when the cafeteria stopped serving burgers for that deep clean, but that’s about it.”

“Huh,” replied Josie.

“Anyway – this is the one,” continued Veronica blithely, waving the heavy candle around.

Cheryl eyed it skeptically. “Are you sure?”

Veronica adopted an affronted look. “What do you mean, _am I sure_? It’s not like B’s my best friend or anything.”

Cheryl exhaled a long-suffering sigh and nodded. She took the candle from Veronica, read the label, and rolled her eyes.

She turned to Melody and Val, and proceeded to call loudly throughout the store unashamedly, making people turn to her, “Alright bitches, this is the one we’re looking for! I want _at least_ ten of the fragrances.”

Melody and Val took note of the scent label and nodded eagerly, and dumped an entire shelf of the product into their baskets, heading straight for the perturbed cashier, who all but shoved the discount cards in the paper bag hurriedly to get the strange teenagers from the store.

“Well, now that _that_ is done,” said Josie, “Did any of you consider how you’re going to spray this scent all around Jughead without him noticing any of us?”

An alarmed Cheryl and Veronica shared a wide-eyed look.

* * *

Dilton Doiley, a Scout leader and all-around nice guy (kind of – it was debatable. He was a bit of a dick, but if he left people alone, they left him alone, and since the whole July 4th thing with the gun and the bird-watching mishap, he kept to himself), was whistling as he strode down Riverdale High School’s near-empty hallway, in between first and second period. He was on the way back from the dark room, where Ace MacDonald was willing to develop the film he took of a peregrine, when he felt something like talons grab onto his arm and back and _yank_.

“Urrccckk!”

Dilton found himself in a janitor’s closet, the darkness making it near impossible for him to see anything and even better still, his glasses were askew on his nose.

He turned slowly.

Veronica reached up and yanked on the string to an overhead bulb. The light burst into existence; Cheryl Blossom stood in all her red glory and (tacky, but he wouldn’t tell) spider broach alongside Veronica Lodge, looking far more collected and pristine in a Wednesday Addams-style dress.

Dilton blinked, and his mouth dropped open. He had fantasies that began this way.

“C-Cheryl. V-Veronica,” he stuttered.

“Dilton,” began Veronica, very carefully pronouncing her words. “I need you to do me a favour.”

He gulped, and nodded eagerly before they could explain anything else.

*

Jughead was enjoying Southside High.

Granted, it was no Riverdale High School.

And there was no Archie – his best friend – to keep him entertained when he inevitably did something stupid; and there was no Blue and Gold to hone his writing skills, and most importantly of all, there was no Betty Cooper.

He missed her.

He missed his girlfriend ( _ex-girlfriend_ , a nasty voice in his head whispered tauntingly, _you ended things with her, remember?_ ) every moment he was on the South Side, and whenever he saw something interesting or wanted to make a biting comment about someone’s stupidity, she wasn’t there to hear it.

He sighed and yanked open his locker.

“Yo, Jug!” a Judd Nelson-lookalike called his name from down the dingy hall, just past the metal detectors.

“Hiya, Possum,” replied Jughead quietly when the teen reached him.

“Hey, man, did you hear—”

But Jughead never found out what he was supposed to hear. Behind him, a crowd of students pushed past and then there was a delightful, amazing smell. His nose twitched and he inhaled deeply.

_I know that smell._

Eyes wide, he spun around, ignoring Possum’s “hey, man, what gives?”, and his eyes moved up and down the crowded hallway.

They darted from that one girl wearing pink— _no, that’s not her_ —

To a blonde ponytail— _that’s not her, either, dammit_!—

And then to another, and another.

The scent of watermelon lemonade lingered.

But Betty was not in the hallway, nor was she at Southside High.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slammed his locker shut petulantly.

 _Of course she won’t be here, you weirdo,_ thought Jughead angrily. _Why would she want to be with the guy who broke her heart?_

But the smell wouldn’t leave – every so often, he’d smell it again, in the strangest of places: in the gym; out on the track field; in his English classroom; always in the hallways before and after class.

At one point, he swore the cafeteria woman serving him his limp burger smelled like sweets and summer, Betty’s alluring watermelon lemonade scent she wore during nicer weather.

By the end of the day, his eyes were perpetually wide and his hair in even more of a disarray than normal, his beanie off-center on his head from running his hands through his hair.

It was maddening.

It didn’t end.

The smell of watermelons hung around him in a heady cloud at Pop’s; he could smell the fine tinge of jasmine at Ferret’s junk garage; _fuck_ he could even smell the citrusy bright scent of lemons at the Whyte Wyrm.

 _This is insane. I am insane. There’s no way in hell Betty could have been around me all day without me noticing her,_ he thought, eyes frantically moving along the dim interior of the Serpent’s bar.

“Jesus, Jug, you okay?” one of the older Serpents asked him, taking a long, hard look at the wide-eyed kid of FP’s. He looked beyond startled, and the man wondered if he was truly cut out to be a Serpent if something had spooked him that easily.

“Yeah,” replied Jughead, eyes sweeping the room again. “Yes, Muskrat. I’m fine.”

The man – unfortunately named Muskrat – frowned and said, hesitantly, “Well, if you say so, kid...”

 _This will all be over soon,_ thought Jughead. _It’s just post-breakup freak outs. I’ll be okay._

If only.

* * *

Cheryl cackled.

She, Veronica, the Pussycats, as well as Archie, Kevin, and Reggie, were at her new abode – not Thornhill, that burned down, remember? No, this was the Blossom _summer_ home in Riverdale, Rosebriar – spread across several couches in the art deco-designed entertaining room, overlooking Sweetwater River.

Dilton had just finished giving the large group a(n exaggerated) blow-by-blow account of his day spent at Southside High, and following Jughead Jones around. The younger teen beamed at the appraising looks Veronica and Josie both sent him.

“Step one, complete,” the redhead continued.

Archie scooted away from her, sharing a look with Reggie as the only other footballer on the team – after all, if Reggie thought the same as him, then he didn’t have to worry about fading masculinity in the wake of Cheryl’s villainous laugh.

“Wonderful job, Dilton, really,” praised Veronica, hands clasped under her chin. Melody and Val made noise-appropriate sounds in agreement.

“Thank you,” he replied with a wide smile, glancing around the room.

“How did you even manage?” asked Kevin, awed, mouth open. “Jughead sees _all_.”

Dilton turned his eyes up to the ceiling and murmured, modestly, “Oh, it wasn’t that hard. I’m just a special kind of ninja!”

(Of course, he didn’t tell them about the bruise he got on his shin, dodging into the broom closet at Southside; or when he hit his elbow doing a mad dive to avoid Jughead’s gaze outside Pop’s under the nearby dumpster; or when that weird Possum kid nearly ran him over with his motorcycle outside that other rodent-named garage; or when he had to frantically climb that tree to avoid those Doberman outside the Whyte Wyrm.)

“Wow!” said Archie, impressed. “I never knew that, Dilton. Maybe you should try out for the football team?”

Reggie nodded.

“We could use someone with your skills,” continued Archie.

Dilton pulled at the neck of his polo shirt, suddenly sweating. “Ehh...”

“Never mind _football_ ,” scoffed Kevin, waving his hand at the two players. “Now that step one is complete, we should move on to step _two_.”  

Expectantly, all eyes turned to Cheryl. She scoffed. “What? Does it _look_ like I have everything planned to a T? I started you off, you losers can figure out the next move.”

Veronica cleared her throat. “Well, it’s a good thing then that I know what to do.”

All eyes turned to her with eager anticipation.

*

TBC...


	3. 2: Step Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the final day of my summer workshop, and I've been so bored that I was writing CFPs all week instead because it wasn't what I expected. So, I'm uploading the next chapter now in hopes that I'll get bombarded with emails from comments to distract me and make me look like I'm working when I reply to them!!
> 
> Also, full disclaimer: I know nothing about cars. I am the Jon Snow of cars. I googled everything. If it's wrong, it's Google's fault.

*

I like a man who can run faster than I can. – Dorothy Shaw

*

**Step Two**

“You need my help?” asked Betty skeptically, hands on her hips as she stared up at Archie and Reggie, both who squirmed under her intense gaze. Both were dressed in street clothes and out of their usual Letterman jackets, stripping them of their Riverdale High School football identity. Archie wore his usual Henley-and-jean combo, while Reggie was dressed in jeans and a tight t-shirt with a light blazer overtop. In the pocket of his blacker, hung a pair of reflective Ray Bans.

“Erm,” said Archie, shuffling back and forth on the Cooper front stoop. “Yes?”

Betty turned her eyes to Reggie, who gave a shrug. “I’m just following orders.”

Betty’s eyes narrowed. She hissed, “ _Cheryl_?”

Reggie shrugged again. “Ronnie.”

“C’mon, _pleeeeeeease_?” wheedled Archie, blinking imploringly at Betty. “You know you’re the best. We don’t want to be conned.”

“Oh, alright,” sighed Betty. “Just let me grab my jacket.”

“Thanks, Betty,” beamed Archie, “You’re a lifesaver!”

She reached into the hallway and grabbed a light denim jacket hanging from a rack on the wall and grumbled, “Yeah, yeah, but it’s not like you couldn’t go to a Ford dealership or something and maintain the car there, right?”

“Oh, well, we could—” broke in Reggie.

“—but it’s his dad’s vintage Ford Thunderbird,” jumped in Archie, staring hard at Reggie, who threw his hands in the air. “And didn’t you and your dad recently finish restoring a car?”

“It was a Pontiac GTO,” said Betty, eyes narrowed as she looked back and forth between the two footballers. “This is part of the—”

“Oh, look at the time!” exclaimed Archie. “We’re going to be late for our appointment!”

He put a hand at Betty’s back, ushering her directly towards the vibrant cherry red convertible parked at the curb outside her house, its top down, and paint job gleaming in the weekend sun. Betty stepped ahead and made her way down to the car, running her fingers over the raised wings along its side.

“We have an appointment?” asked Reggie in an undertone to Archie, as they walked together down the pathway to the street from the Cooper house.

“What? No,” retorted Archie, surprise colouring his tone. “It’s a dodgy _parts shop_ , Reggie – you don’t make appointments. Didn’t you know that?”

“I’m still wondering how I got roped into _Driving Miss Daisy_ ,” he sighed. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he walked around the car and hopped over the driver’s side door and onto the black leather seat. Archie gallantly opened the passenger’s side door, and motioned for Betty to sit.

“There’s only two seats,” she protested, turning to face her friend with a reluctant drag of her eyes from the retro car.

“I’m following in my dad’s truck,” explained Archie, a winning grin on his face to ease the suspicion from her mind.

“All right...” replied Betty slowly, sitting down onto the vinyl, and feeling it warmly burn against the back her thighs in the cute sundress Polly wrestled her into earlier that morning. Despite the warm, almost-spring weather, Polly was insistent that she wear one of her sundresses with a thin white cardigan overtop, and that if she went out, a jacket would be enough to keep her warm (she was beginning to suspect Polly was in on this, too – honestly, all she wanted to do was dress up in leather, curl her hair and find Jug and say, “tell me about it, stud” to his face and entice him. Or something. Her plan was a work in progress that was hijacked by her friends and she had no clue what would happen next.).

Reggie turned the ignition and gunned the suddenly throaty sounding car. He put on his sunglasses, revved the engine and said, loudly, “See you there, Andrews,” and then shifted the car into drive.

They left Archie standing at the curb, cursing, and in the wing side mirror, Betty saw him quickly jog over to his house to hop in the truck.

“So, where are we going?” shouted Betty over the roar of the engine and the sound of wind streaming past them as Reggie sped through the quiet neighbourhood and onto the main street in Riverdale. As it was midday on a Saturday, the drag was quiet without much traffic.

“Um, this cool, off-the-beat place,” replied Reggie, raising his voice to be heard, glancing at the blonde next to him. “An automobile specialist for old Fords; Archie said he heard great things about this place.”

“What’s wrong with the car?” she tried next.

Reggie panicked. “Uh, I dunno? It sounds off.”

Betty frowned. “It sounds _off_?” she tilted her head and closed her eyes. “Sounds pretty good to me, but maybe we should have the pistons and valves looked at.”

Reggie flushed under the warm spring sun, and said nothing more as they drove away from the north side of Riverdale and towards the south side, where there were a few run-down strip malls and industrial warehouses, until they came to a large warehouse complex.

Reggie pulled down the narrow lane until he reached the end, to an open sliding delivery door. Above, a simple sign read ‘Ferret’s Burrow’ that had a giant rodent of some sort painted on it.

There were a few people inside the unit, as well as outside; one, somewhere in his twenties in overalls, was smoking as they pulled up, his eyebrows disappearing under his floppy brown hair. His eyes were wide and reverent as they caressed the car.

“Dude!” he said, flicking the cigarette away. “Is that a ’61 Ford Thunderbird?”

Reggie turned off the ignition and hopped out, while Betty calmly unlatched the door and exited normally, a sad sigh escaping as she left the vintage automobile.

“Um,” began Reggie, glancing at the car and the practically salivating mechanic. A series of clanks and muffled shouts from inside hovered between the two as Reggie fumbled for an answer.

Betty took pity on him, beginning to guess why she was along. “It’s a ’62, actually.”

The man in overalls turned to look at her, blinking at the sugarplum image she presented in her sundress and cardigan and denim jacket, next to the vibrant red of the retro car. He scratched his three o’clock shadow.

“Hmmm,” he said, standing straight. “So what brings you to Ferret’s?”

Before Reggie could stammer through another answer, Archie pulled up in his father’s truck, parking it haphazardly next to the car and nearly giving Betty and the mechanic a heart attack.

“Hey, Reg,” greeted Archie cheerfully. “Imagine seeing you here! You need your car looked at? What a beaut!”

Betty stared. She had never heard Archie refer to _anything_ in his life as a ‘beaut.’

Reggie stared at Archie too, until an odd eyebrow-wriggle conversation between the two of them had him go, “oh. OH! Yeah.”

He turned back to the mechanic. With a grimace, he said carefully, almost in a rehearsed manner, “My dad’s... ’62... Thunderbird was sounding a bit off. You guys came... _highly_... recommended and I would really... _like it_... if someone with your... _talents_... could look at it.”

The mechanic scratched his chin again and muttered, “Fuckin’ weird north side rich kids,” but then raised his voice and said, “Yeah, sure. We can take a look.”

He moved forward and popped the hood. Betty, having grown up around cars, eased forward, and peered into the hood, sighing as she did so. The mechanic glanced at her.

“You know cars?” he asked gruffly.

Betty nodded, eyes glued on the restored engine. “My dad and I recently finished restoring a ’67 Pontiac GTO this past summer.”

“No shit!” the mechanic grinned. “What colour?”

“Tyrol blue,” replied Betty, grinning back.

“Nice!” he said. “Front or rear?”

“Four speed manual with rear wheel drive, and a restored V8.”

The mechanic looked very impressed, and he held out a greasy hand to Betty. “Name’s Ferret. What’s yours, gorgeous?”

“Betty,” replied Betty with a smile, barely noticing that Archie and Reggie slink off to Archie’s car to stand aside. She pointed at something under the hood. “Hey, is that a 7-inch generator?”

Ferret peered. “Well, that it is.”

They grinned at one another, and began to talk shop, tossing words like “two-pulley alternator,” “brake master cylinder,” “quarter-inch control valve” and “dashpot with bracket.” They were so engrossed in the discussion of the car that they hadn’t noticed that the sounds from within had stopped, but Betty sure as hell heard what came next.

“ _Archie?_ Reggie? What are you guys doing here?”

Betty straightened up from the hood of the car, glancing over her shoulder at her (ex-)boyfriend, who emerged from the unit in his Serpents jacket, looking bewildered at the intrusion of the north side in his south side life.

Reggie – who had been contemplating a selfie and looking at his Instagram feed on his iPhone, looked up. His expression changed from pure boredom to pure glee in a manner of seconds. Archie gave his best friend a tiny wave, mouth open and ready to explain their presence.

Reggie beat him to it.

“Oh, just taking my dad’s old muscle car out for an afternoon stroll,” he drawled.

“With Archie?” Jughead snorted. “You two on a date?”

“Ha, ha,” deadpanned Reggie, although his eyes were devious. “You think you’re so funny, Zucko.”

Ferret rolled his eyes (honestly, if you’re in a gang with leather jackets and you _don’t_ hear at least one _Grease_ reference, you haven’t been a Serpent long), and the two others emerged from the unit with Jughead, deep scowls on their faces (readers should note that one was the Judd Nelson-lookalike previously mentioned as _Possum_ ; the other was a teenager named Skunk, but his real name was ‘Eugene’ – he just didn’t like it much).

“No,” continued Reggie, completely unaware of the danger he was in, “I picked up Sunshine over here to take for a drive.” He then wiggled his eyebrows.

Jughead, confused, narrowed his eyes, and turned to where Ferret was working on a red Thunderbird, idly wiping his hands on his dirty overalls.

Jughead’s heart stopped.

_“Betty?”_

Betty plastered a fake smile on her face. She braced her heart – it was cracking – and took a deep breath and chirped, “Hey, Juggie.”

(Jughead thought she looked completely calm and collected, not heartbroken at all, and Betty would’ve been pleased at his thoughts because inwardly she was seething with righteous, pure feminine anger at him.)

Ferret glanced back and forth between the two. _How the hell does FP’s kid know this sweet ass?_

Apparently, it was the thought that was going through everyone’s minds (except of course Archie, Reggie, and Jughead). The men with Jughead kept looking at Betty (looking adorable in a yellow sundress and white cardigan, her face flushed with her hair coming loose from her ponytail and a grease mark across her cheek), and back at Jughead (in his father’s Serpents jacket, beanie-less and hair in a windswept mess, dirty and ripped black jeans and heavy Doc Martens), in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” Jughead continued, his feet rooted on the pavement, and his heart pounding madly in his chest. _She doesn’t even look upset we broke up. What the hell._ I’m _heartbroken. Shouldn’t she be heartbroken too? Nineties RomComs lied to me._

Archie and Reggie shared grins behind his back.

Betty shrugged and picked at the hem of her cardigan. “Reggie wanted my opinion on his dad’s Thunderbird and wanted to bring it here for Mr. Ferret—”

“Ah, just Ferret.”

“—for Ferret to look over,” continued Betty with breaking her stride. “You know how much of a car junkie my dad is.”

“Um, yeah,” said Jughead, stupefied, his eyes cast to the side. He didn’t actually know that Hal Cooper was a big car fan, because he’d never been invited to the Cooper house to speak to Hal. He did not interact with the man, other than when he dropped them off at Thornhill for Jason’s memorial months ago.

“What are you doing here, Jug?” asked Archie, earnestly.

Jughead wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but Archie had never been a good liar, and he was genuinely asking (Archie totally knew what Jughead was doing at Ferret’s Burrow – Josie found out from Valerie, who found out from Cricket, who found out from Jinx, who heard it from Kevin, who got the information from Joaquin).

“Jughead works here after school and on the weekends,” said Ferret, glancing at the silent teen and newest Southside Serpent. “He’s working on our cars and bikes and learning his way around the shop.”

“You know your way around cars, Poe?” snorted Reggie. “You barely know your way around Riverdale High and you were there three years.”

“ _Reggie_!” snapped Betty.

Jughead shot him a nasty glare in response, too.

Ferret jerked his thumb at the walking ray of sunshine standing next to him, ignoring the tall football player and typical north side rich kid. “Jughead, you know Betty?”

Jughead nodded slowly. “Yeah, she’s—”

“His ex-girlfriend!” burst out Archie, causing everyone’s head to swivel to him in surprise. Archie flushed under the attention.

“Dude!” whispered Possum loudly, whistling his appreciation. “You dated _that_?”

Betty cringed at the very sexist remark.

Ferret scowled and muttered, “Want to help me check these valves?”

“Oh, God, yes please,” muttered Betty back, turning her back on her ex-boyfriend and his Southside friends. She yanked off her cardigan – it was white, of course she would – and completely missed the awed looks from Ferret and the Serpents at the garage, as they let their eyes trail over the sudden reveal of feminine skin and shiny shoulders.

Jughead scowled, glancing at Reggie and Archie who were of no help.

“Please tell me she’s okay with Serpents,” muttered Possum, eyes firmly on Betty’s behind, actually speaking in a low voice that didn’t carry over to where Ferret was gleefully brushing up against Betty and ogling the way her sundress slipped up her taut behind when she leaned into the hood.

Jughead balled up his fists and breathed heavily. “Betty doesn’t care about things like that.”

“Betty?” frowned Skunk (or Eugene). “Wait, you mean _Betty Cooper_? The girl from Riverside High that wrote that article about your dad? The one that pretty much told all of Riverdale to stop blaming the Serpents for everything going wrong in their lives?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” said Jughead, eyes firmly on his (ex-)girlfriend as she laughed at something Ferret said, tossing her head back and letting the sun catch her golden hair.

Skunk shook his head. “Why are you two not together? It sounds like she really cares about your old man in that article she wrote.”

Jughead pinched his mouth tightly together.

“Oh, he only broke up with her last week,” said Reggie, joining the conversation. He had moved from Archie’s truck to mingle with Jughead – or, rather, purposefully antagonise him – and was now rocking back and forth on his heels. “Said that because they lived some distance from each other, it wouldn’t work. Or that she was too good for him. Something. I’m not sure, actually. There’s just so many rumours going around...”

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you man?” whispered Skunk.

Jughead began to grind his teeth together.

“Hey, Reg, my dad just called and said he needs the truck, can you make sure Betty gets home alright?” asked Archie, shouting across the short distance between his car to where Reggie stood with the Southside Serpent teens, catching everyone’s attention.

“Yeah, Andrews, no problem,” he replied.

Archie nodded in reply, and climbed into the truck and started the engine, leaving Jughead in the presence of someone he _actively_ disliked all throughout high school.

Reggie turned to Betty who had looked up at the call. “Maybe we can stop by Pop’s later, Betts?” he slanted his eyes at Jughead. “Or, you know, maybe head over to Lookout Point?”

Jughead was sure his molars were dust with how hard he was grinding them.

“Oh, no way!” interrupted Ferret, also standing. “Betty was just telling me about restoring the GTO she did last summer. And she’s got some suggestions for the Corvette we’ve got in the back. She’s staying here!”

Reggie raised his eyebrows, as if stunned by the man’s audacity.

Betty herself watched the men around her posture, head bouncing back and forth as though she were watching a Ping-Pong match.

“I am Betty’s ride,” argued Reggie. “Besides – her mother is _freakin’ scary_ and I don’t want to piss the Cooper dragon off if I don’t bring her precious baby back in time for dinner.”

Ferret scowled, but nodded. He then turned to Betty, and asked, imploringly, “Can you come back tomorrow to help on the Corvette? And maybe drop by after school on Tuesday to work on the Shelby? And maybe Wednesday and Thursday too?”

Betty paused, but slowly nodded. “Sure. I haven’t had much opportunity lately to work on anything.” She smiled up at Ferret, who smiled back at her, besotted.

Jughead wanted to find something to bang his head against. From where he stood, he could just about smell Betty’s intoxicating and mouth-watering watermelon and lemonade scent; and not only had he smelled his (ex-)girlfriend’s scent all yesterday, but now he was going to be spending time with her, too?

He scowled. Whoever told him that breakup protocol meant not seeing your ex to wean yourself from them clearly hadn’t sent the memo to Betty.

*

TBC...


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went a bit more serious than planned... oh well! Spoilers for the _Riverdale_ comic tie in, issue #3.

*

 **Mr. Esmond Sr**.: Say, they told me you were stupid! You don’t sound stupid to me!

 **Lorelei Lee** : I can be smart when it’s important.

*

**Step Three (ish)**

A week later, Veronica hijacked her.

“Is this really necessary?” asked Betty, folding her arms and pouting as she slid further down the lush interior of the town car Veronica’s family owned. “It was really difficult asking Ferret to have the weekend off.”

Betty’s gaze turned inward, and she thought about the downtrodden face Ferret made when she asked to speak with him.

_“Oh, God,” Ferret had said, his voice filled with dismay. “You’re quitting.”_

_“What?”_

_Ferret fell to his knees, shuffling across the concrete floor of the garage until he clenched his fists in the hem of her shirt. Betty, embarrassed, looked around the garage for help but Possum and Skunk froze, deer-in-the-headlights look on their faces and Jughead had not yet arrived._

_“Please, Betty,” cried Ferret. “I know it’s only been a week, and we’re terrible men. But there must be something! What can I offer you to stay? Please don’t go. Please don’t leave the garage!”_

_“Betty, don’t go!” cried Possum, racing forward. Skunk dropped his wrench and hurriedly followed his friend._

_“Yeah, don’t leave us!” Skunk cried. “You’re wonderful! We love you!”_

_“Was it Jughead?” demanded Ferret. “Did he say something? Did he_ do _something?”_

_“That bastard!” shouted Possum, slamming a closed fist into his opposite, open palm. “We’ll handle it for you, Betty.”_

_“Yeah, I’ll punch his face in!” added Skunk._

_“What? No!” Betty shook her head. “Juggie didn’t do anything.”_

_Skunk looked mildly disappointed._

_“I... I’m not quitting, Ferret,” Betty had continued, bewildered. Her head kept turning between the three, all of them practically in tears. “I just want Saturday off to go shopping with my friend?”_

_Ferret collapsed on the ground in a relieved heap, practically bowing down to her like she was the Queen._

Veronica slanted a look at Betty, and in return, she sighed. “Look, it was awkward, okay? I honestly don’t want to go through that again.”

“No problem, B,” agreed Veronica. “But we haven’t had much girl time recently, and I wanted to catch up with you.” She eyed her friend and her entire face just... softened. “How are you, really?”

Betty’s stoic countenance immediately crumbled. She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth and tilted her eyes up, blinking heavily to avoid any tears from falling.

“Oh, _God_ , V,” she gasped out, breathing heavy. She brought her hands up to her face and began fanning them frantically. “It’s horrible. I feel like my heart’s been ripped out – I sometimes can’t breathe – I just make a fist and – _it’s so painful_ – I just want to be with him. I miss him. God, I miss him so much. How could he? _How could he just give up on us_?”

Veronica, alarmed when Betty began speaking, slid over the leather interior of the car, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close and made appropriate _shhh_ noises.

Minutes later, Betty took the last of her deep, shuddering breaths and Veronica smoothed back some loose blonde strands from her forehead with her cool hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“B,” began Veronica, her voice quiet but firm, “You don’t _ever_ have to apologise to me.”

Betty wiped under her eyes to remove any make up stains and gave a watery laugh. “Thanks, V. I really appreciate it.”

She waved an airy hand in reply. “You’re my girl. And while I certainly don’t _approve_ of how Ponyboy handled the situation – or him, right now – I know you care about him.” She sighed and then clapped her hands, once. “Right! We’ve got a busy day ahead: mani/pedis, salon blowout for some _epic_ hair, and then retail therapy at the mall.”

The car began to move then, the driver an unseen force propelling them to their next destination. They chatted about inconsequential things in the meantime, and before they knew it, the car slowed and they were parked outside the nail salon.

Veronica emerged from the car first, Betty crawling out behind her across the sticky leather. As soon as she was out, betty stood straight and then her heart plummeted.

“B, you ready?” called Veronica, already near the door to the nail salon, glancing over her shoulder at her friend.

Betty swallowed and looked back up at the sign above the door. _Monica’s_ was written in cursive pink, its interior lush and muted with contemporary furniture and whites and greys and pastels. It was the salon Alice Cooper attended, and often brought her daughters to when she wanted them to look nice for a family event, a Register event, or any event where she could parade them.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” asked Veronica, suddenly in front of Betty.

“My mom comes here,” muttered Betty, dragging her eyes from the sign to her friend.

“We can go elsewhere,” suggested Veronica, already moving back to the car to signal the driver.

Betty shook her head, squaring her shoulders. “No. I’m not... no. Let’s go in.”

Veronica’s mouth dropped open and she watched, flabbergasted, as Betty strode inside. Veronica caught up with her at the counter, where the woman behind it just finished her phone call and turned a beaming smile on the blonde.

“Miss Cooper! How lovely to see you again,” she gushed. “Is your mother here? We don’t have an appointment scheduled.”

“No,” said Betty, shaking her head. “I’m here with my best friend – two under Lodge.”

The attendant’s eyes widened, and she glanced between the blonde and Veronica, who gave a tiny smirk from behind her friend, arms crossed.

“Oh. Of course,” she looked down and flipped through the appointment book, and then double-checked something on the computer screen, to buy time and seem busy. “Here it is. Why don’t you ladies look at the colours and we’ll get you started?”

Veronica rolled her eyes at Betty from behind the woman’s back as she gestured to the far wall, lined with multiple bottles with different company names on them, a rainbow of nail polish. Veronica immediately went for the darker colours, drawn to the burgundys and browns, while Betty began to flutter between the pinks, but her eyes were drawn elsewhere.

The wall behind the counter was a long, raised white booth, with eight single basins for the pedicures and folding trays similar to school desks for manicures, all at the same station. Two other women appeared from the back, one recognizing Betty immediately, waving.

“Betty!” the thirty-something woman greeted. “How lovely to see you.” She walked over to Betty, reaching past and picking up Betty’s usual colour – the colour her mother often picked for her. “Are we going with Perfect Pink again today?”

“Perfect Pink?” Veronica echoed from the woman’s other side, making a face. “B, please tell me you don’t.”

Betty frowned. “No,” she said quietly. “Not today.”

She reached forward and picked another colour, pressing that into the salon attendant’s hands. The woman’s eyebrows darted up beneath her blonde hair, but her eyes were gentle as she took it and began setting up Betty’s station. Soon, she and Veronica were next to one another, at the further seats from the doorway, and next to the mounted television, which was muted.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” began Betty, “But how much more should I expect with this plan?”

Veronica shrugged, dipping her toes into the warm water to soak her feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, B. What plan?”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb. Archie and Reggie mentioned _you_ suggested taking Reggie’s car to Ferret’s.” She narrowed her eyes at her friend, wriggling her toes in the water. “You knew Jug was working there.”

“Constantly reminding him of you is a sure way to make sure he goes crazy,” retorted Veronica primly. “Besides, poor Dilton has been sending out his scouts every day this past week to Southside High to spray the fragrance you wear around him and elsewhere. They’ve even worked out a rotation schedule! You don’t want to deprive them of this, do you? Dilton mentioned the other day that his scouts have taken to it like ducks to water – they consider it survival training.”

Betty stared. “How on earth could it be survival training?”

Veronica gave a tiny shrug, bringing one foot out as her attendant pointed to the towel on the cushioned lip of the basin. She had reached for one of the magazines left on the seat and began flipping through it. “There was something about dodging. And being hidden. I don’t know. I stopped paying attention when he mentioned calisthenics.”

Betty frowned. _But when will everyone get tired of this? What if Jug doesn’t change his mind?_

She wanted to speak her thoughts aloud to Veronica, to hear what she thought, but clamped her mouth firmly shut, thinking furiously. She didn’t want to embarrass herself more than she already had – God, she was pathetic, pining after someone who broke things off with her. Why couldn’t she let it go?

Betty barely noticed the three other girls entering the salon as they soaked their feet, but she did notice them laughing and chatting loudly to one another, settling in the other seats available, with only one empty space between them and her on the long booth.

The girls were all pretty – but harsh, in a way. They looked worn and proud, as if they had survived and thrived, and that instantly made Betty like them; she caught the eye of the girl closest to her and they shared a smile: she was a brunette with long, straight brown hair and bangs cut sharply under her brows. She wore a black midriff cut tank top and matching black high-top shorts. She let her chunky black wedges fall to the ground next to her basin and slipped her feet into the water.

The other two girls with her were clearly her friends; one was a blonde in pigtails with her hair pulled back as severely as Betty’s usual ponytail, and the other was a girl with pink hair, her head shaved on both side except for the streak down the middle that she braided back into a small fishtail. The blond wore an adorable Hot Topic dress – skulls and crossbones in pretty red and white – while the pink-haired girl went more grunge in a ripped Nirvana t-shirt and tight skinny jeans she was struggling to roll up.

“Anyway, B, the next step – beyond making Jughead realise the stupidity of breaking things off with you, which I’m beginning to see will take dire measures – is in the works,” continued Veronica, looking up from the magazine.

“Sorry – did you just say ‘ _Jughead_ ’?” asked the brunette next to Betty, causing both her and Veronica to look over.

“Um, yes,” said Betty. ‘Jughead’ wasn’t a popular name, like Mike or Steve, so there could really be only one person they’d be talking about in all of Riverdale. “Do you know him?”

The blonde, sitting between the pink-haired girl and the brunette, leaned forward and popped a very large pink bubble. “Yah, he like, totally just transferred to our school.”

Veronica leaned forward herself. “You attend Southside High?”

Instantly, the girls bristled. “So what?” asked the brunette. Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, I know you...!”

Veronica hissed and sat back quickly, as she too recognized the girl.

“ _You_!” the brunette snapped, “You’re a Pussycat!”

“And you’re that Southside snake band - Venom!” retorted Veronica, narrowing her eyes. “What made you slither from your nests to the north?”

“We don’t owe you anything,” replied the pink-haired girl. “Retract those claws, kitten, and we can get through the next hour and half peacefully.”

Veronica huffed and crossed her arms. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“Are you kidding me?!” the words slipped from Betty’s mouth before she had time to censor them. Everyone fell silent and looked at her. She flushed.

“For God’s sake, V, it doesn’t matter if they’re here,” began Betty, looking at her best friend. “They’re getting their nails done. Leave them alone.” She then slanted a look at the three girls. “And this isn’t Battle of the Bands. Your reputation as tough-as-nails isn’t going to be compromised because we saw you picking Blushing Pink for your nails.” She finished with a distinct look at the pink-haired girl who blushed.

“So... truce?” Betty asked, looking at everyone. “For while we’re here, at least?”

Everyone sat silently for a bit, even as the attendants watched nervously, until Veronica sighed.

“For you, Betty Cooper – truce,” she began, with a smile. “What do you say, ladies?”

The brunette caved first. “Truce,” she said, holding out her hand to Betty. “I’m Cleo, the lead singer.”

The pink-haired girl waved. “Lilith, but call me Lily. I play bass.”

“Shiv,” replied the blonde in pigtails, rolling her eyes northward. “Keyboard.”

“Well, now that we all know each other,” said Betty with a forced grin that got her through most family dinners, “We can be civilized.”

“You said Jughead Jones earlier,” began Cleo, “How do you know him? Are you friends of his from the north side?”

Veronica laughed, nudging Betty. “This is his girlfriend.”

Shiv’s eyes widened and she looked Betty up and down. “He, like, hasn’t mentioned a girlfriend.”

“The asshole broke up with her two weeks ago,” said Veronica, “But for the stupid reason of not wanting B here to get hurt.”

“V, really!” hissed Betty, “Are we just going to tell my sob story to everyone we meet?”

Veronica shrugged. “Hey, this is great – we’ve got a direct line into Southside High here. I’m taking advantage of it.”

Lily sniffed, and then stiffened. “Hey, does anyone else smell watermelon lemonade?”

The other two girls from Venom also began discreetly sniffing until their noses turned to Betty, who turned very red and slouched in her seat as far as she could go, while her attendant chuckled and began rubbing moisturizer on her legs.

“Why do you smell like watermelon and lemonade?” asked Cleo confusedly. “You don’t go to Southside, right? I mean, you’re at Riverdale High School. So why have I been smelling it around school?”

“Ummm....”

“So, step one of our plan to make Jughead realize what a bonehead he was, was to remind him of Betty’s scent,” jumped in Veronica, eagerly speaking about the entire groups’ ‘get Betty and Jughead back together’ 5-step plan, although they had kind of halted on step three. “Someone we know has been going around all over your school and following Jughead, spraying the fragrance we picked up from Bath and Body Works.”

“Wow - that’s pretty clever,” admired Shiv, giving an appraising look to Veronica. “And it’s a great smell. Like, I haven’t minded English as much this semester.”

Betty grinned.

“You said ‘step one’,” mentioned Cleo, looking back and forth at the two girls from the north side. “What’s step two?”

“Oh, I engineered that one,” chirped a delighted Veronica. “I found out that Jughead is working at a body shop, so I finagled one of the boys to take Betty there under the pretense of having his car fixed.” She cast a kind look at her best friend. “B knows her way around cars, so it worked out well. Even better than that – the shop took her on!”

“Wait -- wait!” Lily sat up, sloshing some water from her basin as her feet soaked. “ _Ferret’s_ shop? _You’re_ Betty Cooper?”

Betty gave a tiny wave, and then all three girls began gushing at her.

“Omigod, I loved the article you wrote—”

“Eugene won’t stop talking about you—”

“Do you know motorcycles, too?”

Betty blinked in surprise. “Umm... in order: thank you; who’s Eugene? And I know my way around motorcycles, yes.”

Lily grinned. “Eugene is my older brother – although he goes by Skunk. You work with him at the shop.”

“Oh!” Betty grinned. “He’s a real sweetie.”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “Don’t let him hear that, honestly – all Southside boys who are with the Serpents think they’re the stinky shit because they’ve got a leather jacket.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open, and then she began laughing. Laughing loudly, and hard, so much so that she began hiccupping and crying. She grabbed at her side, where a stitch developed, and tried to calm herself down – but it was too funny.

“I –ah, ha, ha – I was so worried when – whu-when J-Juggie took the j-jacket,” she stuttered between giggles, “That – that – that they w-would make things hard for us... b-but to hear you say... _stinky shit_!” She began giggling again.

Veronica bit her lip at her side. “It’s kind of true, B. Didn’t Jughead say that he was worried about the Serpents asking too much of him, and this was his way of protecting you? By ending things?”

“What a loser,” snorted Shiv. “Like, don’t get me wrong – they totally deal, like, weed mostly, but still. They’re a gang. But they’re also like, dads and brothers and uncles and stupid brothers. Most of the time, they hang out at the Whyte Wyrm and like, just play pool and get drunk. Like, posture and ask questions like ‘who has the most kick ass tattoo’ and then end up in screaming matches when they disagree. They’re really big pussies.” She looked at Veronica apologetically. “No offence.”

The Pussycat grinned back. “None taken.”

“So, what exactly are you trying to do?” asked Cleo to Betty, once she was back under control. “Do you want to get back with him? It doesn’t really sound like he deserves you if he could throw you away like that.”

“I love him,” replied Betty, simply. “And I know he loves me too. A lot happened to us since this summer, and even more to him. And I think he’s scared because of how _right_ we are.”

Lily sighed, her eyes dreamy. “That’s so romantic.”

Shiv pushed at her friends shoulder and scowled. “Are you saying I don’t do enough romantic gestures for you?”

Before a couple’s argument could begin, Cleo asked, “So, scent; that was the first step – and then Ferret’s garage, second. What’s next?”

Veronica shrugged. “We kind of stalled. I called B here so we could have a girl’s day, and later we’re going to the hair salon to get a blowout, and then Kev’s meeting us at the mall for retail therapy. But the rest of us are stuck on what to do next, really. We’ve got Jughead’s attention – we’ve made him paranoid – and now he’s around Betty anyway. But we haven’t been able to push him into admitting what he did was a mistake.”

Betty stared at her friend. “Is that what you’re all trying to do? Make Jug realize what he did was wrong and then come back to me?”

Veronica gave Betty a look. “It’s better than your _Grease_ recreation idea, B.”

Cleo snorted and Betty blushed. “It was just an idea, I didn’t go through with it,” she mumbled.

From the far side, Lily leaned in to her girlfriend, Shiv, whispering something in her ear. Shiv rolled her eyes – she was very expressive with them – but nodded, and then turned and whispered to Cleo. Betty couldn’t make out what she was saying – it was too mumbled and garbled for her – but Cleo’s expression went from thoughtful and gleeful in a manner of seconds.

While they did so, Betty turned to look at her toes, which her attendant was finishing the final coat. The vibrant coral orange flashed back at her – a completely different colour to any pink she ever had. Her mother would flip.

Cleo then turned to her and Veronica. “What if we have an idea?”

Betty and Veronica turned to Cleo slowly.

“Go on,” said Veronica slowly.

Cleo grinned. “Venom is playing a session tonight at the Whyte Wyrm. One-hundred percent, Jughead will be there – it’s totally a Serpent-only thing. Why don’t you and your friends come see us play? And if the Pussycats are willing, we could even do a competition set?”

Veronica already had her phone out, sending a group message through WhatsApp. “Done.” She peered down at the screen. “Josie already said we’re in.”

Cleo’s grin widened. “Excellent.” She then eyed Betty up and down. “You said you’re meeting your friend after at the mall? Why don’t we join...? I think we might be able to add a little excitement to your next step if we organize it.”

Betty’s brows furrowed. “But why? You don’t know me at all. You don’t have to do this.”

Lily reached across her girlfriend and friend to just breeze near Betty on the booth. “You’re right, we don’t know you. But we know your words – what you wrote and said about those of us living on the south side. We heard you say that we need to come together as a community, as a whole.”

Shiv graced them with her first smile. “Like, not everything has to be a fight,” she said, glancing at Lily, who beamed back. “And besides, he’s, like, your one true love, right?”

Veronica gasped. “Omigod, B! You’re an OTP! You’re _Bughead_!”

Betty grimaced at the merger of their names.

“You seem like a really nice girl, Betty,” finished Cleo, “And honestly? We’re not south side without a little drama ourselves, and having a bit of fun at someone’s expense to help someone like you out? Well... we’re all for it.”

Betty looked around the salon, from Veronica who was beaming happily beside her, to the three new friends she had made which honestly should never have happened – three girls from Southside High, the Pussycat’s rivals – and wondered, _how did this even become my life?_

* * *

Two hours later, Kevin Keller’s mouth dropped open. He had been expecting Veronica and Betty to meet him outside the Starbucks entrance of the mall for the SoDale project, but the three other girls tumbling out of the town car Veronica used were unexpected.

“Kev,” began Veronica, “This is Venom – they’re a band from the south side: Cleo, Lily, and Shiv. They’re playing a gig tonight at the Whyte Wyrm and we’re all invited.”

 _Well, now,_ thought Kevin. _This is_ quite _the twist in the story._

*

TBC...


	5. Step Three (and Four. Ish)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs, in order:  
> \- Letters to Cleo, "Dangerous Type"  
> \- No Doubt, "Sunday Morning"  
> \- Stevie Nicks, "Edge of Seventeen"  
> \- Save Ferris, "I know"  
> \- Paramore, "Still into You"  
> and at the end, when Veronica and Jughead are talking, Panic! At the Disco, "This is Gospel"

*

 **Ernie Malone** : What are you girls made of? What was that?

 **Lorelei Lee** : Just equal parts of scotch, vodka, brandy, and gin.

*

**Step Four**

“You want me to do _what_?”

“It’s not that difficult. Are you saying you can’t?”

“No! No, I can. I’m just confused. And insulted that you’re paying me. Betty’s sweet.”

“It’s for a good cause. So are you going to do it?”

A sigh. “Yes, dammit, you don’t need to _bribe_ me.” A pause. “Besides, it’ll be fun twisting Jughead a bit more.”

“You just don’t like that he couldn’t tell the difference between a wrench and pliers.”

“Well, that didn’t raise my estimations of him at all. It’s those sickening cow eyes he makes at Betts across the garage get old, fast, too.”

“Then let’s hope this all works.”

“Oh, with me in charge of this part, babe, it will.”

* * *

**Step Three (con’t)**

Reggie pulled up outside the Whyte Wyrm at the designated time, dropping his sunglasses low on his nose to look over the top rim at the building. Beside him, in the cherry red Ford Thunderbird his father had no idea Reggie took, Cheryl pursed her lips. In the parking spot next to them, Archie pulled up in Fred’s truck with Betty, Veronica, and Kevin. None of them thought it was a good idea for Kevin to drive in his father’s well-known truck.

They all climbed out of their cars, standing around and looking at the building, all in equal parts nervousness, anticipation, and wariness.

The building itself was old, with brown wood panel siding on the outside. It was two stories, but the second floor only took a portion of the front of the bar, creating a long, sideways L as the bar extended far towards the back alley. The entrance was on the side, the front windows that faced the mains street out of Riverdale, blackened out to dissuade curious passerbies of what occurred inside.

“Are we really doing this?” muttered Kevin, thinking back to the last time he was here.

“Oh, we are doing this, Keller,” snapped Veronica, hands on her hips. “Besides, Josie, Val, and Mel are already inside.”

He sighed heavily, but moved forward when Veronica linked her arm with Betty, and Cheryl then strode forward to Betty’s other side, framing the blonde. Archie, Kevin, and Reggie followed behind like some sort of honour guard.

They entered the dingy bar, eyes wide and adjusting to the darkness and the slight haze of smoke that hung around the top of the ceiling. All noise stopped, except for the faint hiss and pop of the A/C unit blowing air.

Then – a squeal broke through.

Lil, her pink hair spiked up, raced across the dark stained floorboard and pulled Betty from Veronica and Cheryl, clutching her to her chest.

“I’m so excited you are here!” began the Venom band mate. “Ronnie – you’ll need to go with me to the change rooms, where the Pussycats are already waiting.”

Behind the group, Reggie turned to Archie and Kevin and mouthed, “Ronnie?” just as Cheryl strode forward, hand stuck out, and down.

“Cheryl Blossom, so nice to meet you, Lilikins. V and B here have told me so much about you since earlier this afternoon, but wherever Veronica goes, I go.” Cheryl lowered her voice to a faux whisper. “Between you and me, her sense in fashion tends to the dark and dramatic side.”

“Really, Cheryl?” protested Veronica. “ _I’m_ the one who dresses dark and dramatic?”

Lil gave a tiny smirk. “Oh, that’s no problem. Betty, you’re coming too.”

Kevin sighed. “And there we go – the girls are going off to discuss fashion and they’ll leave me with...” he trailed off and looked at Archie, wearing his usual shirt-and-jeans combo, and then Reggie, who looked like he stepped out of an Abercrombie & Finch photo shoot. “... you two.”

“Tough luck,” griped Lil, but then pointed at the two billiards tables at the far end of the building, past the snake tank, and opposite the bar. “But isn’t that your boyfriend? Go say hi and be antisocial.”

Kevin perked up and indeed, spotted Joaquin who waved him over. “Archie – Reggie – you’re on your own. Bye!”

The two football players, often not friends, but not rivals either, looked at one another and then back around the bar. The few Serpents who were already there, long established patrons and nursing the same bottle of beer for hours, beadily eyed them back. They looked at each other again, and then –

“Yo, Keller!”

“Kev, wait up!”

* * *

The Pussycats were sharing the back storage room that was converted for their changing room with Venom, it was a tight squeeze as nine girls, and all their makeup, hair accessories, curlers, blow dryers, and brushes, all vied for space.

The girls from Venom had already finished their hair and makeup – and introduced the north side girls to the final member of the group, Florence on guitar – and Josie and the Pussycats were nearly done their usual pre-set routine, with Veronica finishing them all by slipping on her signature Pussycat ear headband.

That left Betty (as Cheryl was already pretty enough and had gotten ready before she left Rosebriar).

“Now, B,” began Veronica, turning to her friend, a mascara tube in hand. “How about we had another coat to those gorgeous lashes of yours?”

“And maybe a smokey eye?” suggested Cleo, inching forward with a grey and black matt makeup case.

Josie pursed her lips, and shared a look with Cheryl. “Red lipstick, too,” the redhead declared.

Betty widened her eyes and began to back up. “V – Cheryl – I, uh – no, I really don’t think—”

“And what is that you’re wearing?” added Shiv with an imperious lift of her eyebrows, looking down her nose and up and down Betty’s black jeans and pink sleeveless button-up – the same she wore when she propositioned Chuck. It was the edgiest thing she owned.

“What’s wrong with it?” asked Betty defensively, looking down. Her back hit the wall.

“Oh, honey, it’s real sweet,” said Lily slowly.

“But it doesn’t quite fit,” finished Josie.

“Be prepared Cooper!” declared Cheryl, side-by-side with Veronica and Cleo moving forward as one. Val and Mel then appeared at Betty’s sides, holding her in place. “It’s time for Extreme Betty Makeover Edition!”

Betty’s wide eyes sought out Veronica. “Please – nothing crazy, V? Right? You won’t let them do too much, will you?”

“Oh, B,” cooed Veronica, despite the manic gleam in her eyes. “Have a little faith.”

* * *

By the time the girls were done with Betty, it was almost time for Venom and the Pussycats to go on stage and perform – for the first time ever, _together_. They had worked together on the plan to get Betty and Jughead back together, and they worked together to do some changes to Betty (she still wasn’t sure what, as they hadn’t let her look in the mirror), and now they were ready to play together.

 _It was kind of nice_ , thought Betty, that her woe brought the north and south together.

“Can I look now?” she grumbled.

Cheryl, the last to step back, did one more flick with her hair, smoothing her bangs in place just _so_. She sighed. “ _Tr_ _ès manifique_!”

“No looking,” said Veronica, as Betty stood and began to stretch her neck over the girl’s shoulders and hair to the mirror on the wall behind them.

“Why not?” whined Betty, crossing her arms. Her wardrobe did not escape either – her sleeveless button-up blouse was tied at the bottom, exposing her toned midriff, and her sensible flats were traded for Val’s knee-high boots with a wicked heel.

Her hair was down – she knew that much; curled and waved of some sort and messily falling past her shoulders, having grown it out since winter.

“Last thing!” said Josie, stepping forward with a bottle of watermelon lemonade.

“Really?” asked Betty with a suffering sigh, but she closed her eyes and Josie spritzed her.

“Perfect,” said Cleo, nodding to her band mates. “Time to go now. Ladies?”

Venom trooped out after their lead singer, and Josie rounded up Val and Mel, giving Veronica a tiny nod. Veronica returned it, and turned to face Betty. She smiled and clasped her hands together and sighed. “And let step three commence.”

“Which is?” asked Betty with a tiny frown, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

Veronica frowned, as if confused. “B – you have _fun_.”

She didn’t expect that, and started. “What?”

Veronica smiled gently. “Step three is you having fun. You had a bad day – it has been a bad two weeks. Step three is you doing what you’d like, with us all here as your wing, to make sure you cut loose and enjoy yourself, even if Jughead isn’t here. Or if he is. Tonight is about _you_.”

Betty threw her arms around Veronica, who stumbled back a bit and then wrapped her arms around her friend in response.

“Love you, V.”

“Love you, too B.”

The two pulled away and grinned, and then Cheryl snapped her fingers loudly, causing them to jump apart. “What? Forgot I was here? Thanks. _So much_.” She grabbed Betty’s arm and yanked her forward and out the door. “Let’s go!”

The bar had filled up in the hour they had been in the changing room, and filled with men and women of varying ages, most wearing the signature Serpent jacket or some sort of dark material. A makeshift stage near the back of the bar already had Venom and the Pussycats tuning their instruments, and the billiards tables were pushed to the side for a tiny dance floor in front of the stage.

There were a few dedicated fans already at the front by the stage, but Archie and Reggie had taken a table and were nursing beers they weren’t supposed to have, with Kevin and Joaquin. There were two empty seats for her and Cheryl.

When they sat, Cheryl immediately turned to Reggie and said, “Be a dear and buy me a drink, Reggiekins.”

Reggie, not amused in the least, rolled his eyes, but dutifully got up from his seat and went to the bar, which was now crowded. Archie slid a fruity drink across to Betty.

“It’s a virgin,” he spoke quietly to her over the constant din of the bar, for her ears only.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking the drink and then taking a sip and enjoying the slushy strawberry concoction.

The lights near the back of the bar dimmed, and immediately Venom crashed into a punky version of Letter to Cleo’s _Dangerous Type_. As they ran into the bridge, singing, “She’s a lot like you / the dangerous type / She’s a lot like you / Come on and hold me tight, tonight,” something changed and Betty’s eyes darted to the other side of the stage. Val was merging into the song a different tempo with her keyboard, and then Mel began rolling out a familiar drum tap.

“ _Sappy, pathetic, little me_ ,” sang Josie, “ _I’m not the girl I used to be. You left me on my knees_.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open, having never heard the Pussycats pull out something punkish, but they then began the build into the chorus and Veronica and Val came in, and No Doubt never sounded so good.

Beside her, Archie let out a loud “whoo!” and Kevin whistled loudly into the crowd, which had realized that something was different tonight with the bands playing – Venom and the Pussycats were trading off, showing their skills and riding into each other’s sets.

By the third song, after No Doubt’s _Sunday Morning_ , Kevin had dragged Betty up and out of her seat to the dance floor. By the fourth, Reggie, Cheryl, and Archie had joined in. The fifth, Betty saw Skunk and Possum, and waved, breathless from dancing – she was jumping up and down, and shaking her wild hair, running her hands through it to push it off her face.

By the sixth song, Betty was beginning to wonder if there was a pattern. Everything they had sung was either about strong, independent women making their way in the world, about kicking ass, or getting over heartbreak – and all songs were by female artists.

Josie and Cleo joined forces to sing the next song, and clearly, they had planned that in advance – but she wondered _why then? Why now?_ as the opening of a highly recognizable song and bass thrummed together: “Just like the white winged dove / Sings a song / Sounds like she’s singing,” and then Veronica, Val, Mel, Lil, Shiv, and Florence all joined in: “ _Ooo, ooo, ooo_...”

Betty moved her hips back and forth, listening to Cleo’s raspier voice mix with Josie’s clear, high voice, the strum of the guitar and the clap of the Mel’s drum hitting her deep.

Betty was mouthing the lyrics to the song, swishing her hips back and forth as the two bands altered the song slightly to bring it a bit louder, a bit heavier. A hand slid across her hip, and she spun in surprise to see who would touch her so casually.

She relaxed, meeting Ferret’s familiar floppy brown hair and grin. She returned his grin, and turned back to face forward as he stepped up behind her, matching her swaying hips.

“ _When I see you doin', what I try to do for me / With their words of a poet / And a voice from a choir / And a melody... Nothin' else mattered_ ,” the girls sang, and Betty closed her eyes, stretching her arms up. She felt Ferret trace his fingers up her arm and this – this was what Veronica wanted her to do. Do something for her and have fun.

Just as the girls sang the final verse (“ _Sometime to be near you / Is to be unable to hear you / My love_ ”), Ferret leaned down and asked, shouting to be heard over the music, “Are you having fun?”

“Yes!” she shouted back, turning to face him. “I think I really needed this!”

“Want a drink?” he asked in reply, tilting his head to the bar. She nodded, and they left the dance floor. Kevin glanced briefly over, but with a wink turned back to face the two bands, who started on another collaboration.

They reached the bar, manned by the same man who, several months ago, had passed FP’s jacket to Jughead outside the trailer that fateful night. He was still as large as she remembered, and his beard seemed extra bushy.

“Scott! Yo, Scott!” shouted Ferret. “My usual!” he turned to Betty and asked, “What would you like?”

She shrugged. “You pick.”

A delighted grin split his face, and he nodded, turning back to the bar. “Make that two!”

Scott gave Ferret a strange look, glancing at her, but then sighed, rolled his eyes, and pulled a bottle of Hendrick’s off the shelf and poured the gin into two short glasses mixed with a fresh can of tonic water.

“Ever had a G&T, sweetheart?” asked Ferret, passing the drink to Betty.

She shook her head.

“Well, best go slow then,” he said, tipping his own drink back and sipping it leisurely. Betty eyed the clear liquid, thought _what the hell_ and gingerly sipped it. She immediately sputtered. Ferret laughed loudly, drawing attention from others around them at the bar.

“It’s, um, interesting,” she said, eyeing the glass like it was going to bite her.

“It’s an acquired taste,” replied Ferret. “Try it again. It’ll go down easier.”

She nodded, and did so, slowly sipping at the strong taste, but it did go down easier and it warmed her quickly.  They moved through the crowd and back to the table that she and her friends originally had, but it was left unattended with several bottles of beer and partially finished drinks on it; however, Skunk and Possum had moved there at some point, along with Jughead.

“Boys,” said Ferret with a strange inflection in his voice, as his eyes swept over the three, his hand warm and low on Betty’s back, touching the bare skin where her blouse had been rucked and tied up.

She could feel Jughead’s stare as she sipped from her drink and she slid into the seat she had earlier.

“Should you be drinking that?” he asked her, eyes dark and hooded.

Betty wrinkled her nose. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s a Saturday night. Kev’s my designated driver and he’s not drinking.”

Jughead’s nostrils flared a bit as anger made his olive skin flush. “What about your mother? You don’t want to go home smelling of alcohol and cigarettes. You shouldn’t even _be_ here, Betts.”

Skunk opened his mouth to say something, but Possum frantically shook his head.

Betty flushed, but was unsure if it was the gin and tonic, or anger, that loosened her lips. “I’m sleeping over at Veronica’s tonight. What my mother doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.”

“This is a _Serpents’ bar_!” snapped Jughead.

Betty made a show of looking around the bar and asked, with mock surprise, “Oh, _is it?_ I haven’t noticed a snake theme _at all_!”

Jughead snarled wordlessly, leaning in and across the table. Betty reacted similarly. Immediately, despite the sweat from the heat and her dancing, her watermelon and lemonade scent wafted over to Jughead and he ground his teeth as his jaw clamped shut in response. He resisted the urge to lean further across the table and slam his lips into his girlfriend’s – and after the two weeks without her, she was still his girlfriend even if he ended things because there was no world, no existence where she wasn’t _his_ and he wasn’t _hers_.

Her eyes were wide and pupils were blown, made up with some smokey darkness around them and contrasting with her green irises and wildly curly blonde hair. With her bare midriff, she was a walking sin. He stifled a groan.

She barely noticed when Archie the stage with the two groups, preparing his guitar for the next song. She was fixated on Jughead, angrily thinking, _who the hell is he to tell me what I can or can’t do?_

Without taking her eyes off him, she reached forward and took Ferret’s half-empty gin and tonic and slammed the whole thing back, ignoring the fiery burn of the alcohol as it traveled down her throat.

Distantly, she heard Possum say, reverently, “Fuck. That was beautiful,” just as Veronica began singing, “ _My Mama said to stay away from guys like you... She said they were nasty / Make me do things I don’t wanna do. Stay away from bad boys they got one thing on their mind / Their hormones are_ raging _and they want it all the time_...”

Archie joined in on the chorus at the male singer’s part, and Betty, infuriated with Jughead, turned to Ferret and asked, “Want to get out of here?”

His eyes widened, but he nodded, reaching for her and helping her stand on wobbly legs. The gin and tonics had hit her hard. He wrapped an arm securely around her shoulders, and, with a cheeky wink tossed back at his friends and fellow Serpents from his garage, said, “Don’t wait up for me, boys.”

Possum and Skunk cheered, but Jughead’s scowl deepened and he looked ready to murder his boss. Betty could care less. It had been two weeks, and he ended things with her. She had tried things her friends’ way – thinking that _smell_ and _paranoia_ would get Jughead to admit he still wanted her, still loved her.

But he didn’t – his whole reason for breaking up with her was because she wouldn’t be safe around the Serpents. And yet there she was – in their _goddamn bar_ , friends with three other members, with Venom, and she was enjoying everything about it.

Worse still, was that he couldn’t see how integrated their north side friends were becoming – Reggie was dancing with a girl that definitely was _not_  from their high school, and Kevin and Joaquin were cuddling together against a jukebox, and Archie was singing alongside Cleo, back to back just as the Pussycats were grinning across the stage at Venom. Cheryl was at the bar, surrounded by both men and women, holding court and looking every inch as if she belonged.

Betty minutely shook her head. _If Jug can’t see this, then he never will._ She bit her lip and looked up, just as Ferret looked down at her. He winked.

“You okay, there, Betts?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, bringing a hand up to touch the one he had slung over her shoulder.

And as they left through the open front door to the bar (it was very warm inside), she could hear Cleo’s raspy voice singing, “ _It's not a walk in the park / To love each other / But when our fingers interlock, / Can't deny, can't deny you're worth it / 'Cause after all this time I'm still into you_...”

*

Twenty minutes later, Veronica slid in to the vacant seat next to Jughead, who was morosely staring at the littered tabletop and discarded bottle caps, his hands tightly clenched into fists. Possum and Skunk had both abandoned him shortly after Ferret and Betty left, and he remained, sitting in her lingering, fading scent.

Veronica took one, long look at him. Her eyes were sad, but she rolled them and said, plainly, “You’re an idiot.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“Do you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. Her skin was flushed and sweaty from being on stage singing and dancing, but she seemed happy in a way she hadn’t been since Fred Andrews was shot. “Do you really?”

Jughead winced. “She made her choice. She left with Ferret.”

This time, Veronica’s eye roll was hard enough to make him wince. “God, you can be real stupid sometimes, can’t you?”

“What?” he asked defensively, slouching and hunching his shoulders. “She picked. And like always, it isn’t me.”

“Are you kidding me?” spat Veronica, putting her hand flat on the table with a _smack_ and standing in one move. “That girl has only _ever_ picked you. All. The. Time. And you’re the one throwing her away.” She shook her head in disgust. “Do you even remember your birthday last year?”

Jughead flinched so violently, he nearly tipped his chair.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, so _you do_. Do you remember your fight with Betty?”

“Vividly,” he mumbled.

“And what did your dad say, Jughead? Huh?” asked Veronica, digging deeper as she spoke.

He swallowed heavily. “He said to go after her. ‘Don’t run away,’ he said.” Jughead frowned. “And he said to man up.”

Veronica nodded sagely. “Exactly. So, _man up and go after her, you dunce._ ”

Jughead’s eyes searched hers for a moment, darting back and forth; he tried to figure out why she would even say something to help him after what he did to her best friend. In the end, it didn’t matter. He stood, self-consciously pulled on the lapels of his Serpents jacket to straighten it, and spun on his heel.

He made it two steps before he stopped, and addressed Veronica. “Why?”

“Because she loves you,” the raven-haired girl said. “And because we weren’t getting anywhere with our plans.”

“Wait, _what plans?_ ”

“Go get her, Romeo!” Veronica said, shoving Jughead and then moving back into the crowd of dancers in front of the stage.

“Wait! Veronica! _Wait!_ What plans?!”

But she didn’t answer, just waved an airy hand above her head and was swallowed into the crowd. For a moment, Jughead contemplated finding one of the others, but then realized – Betty was waiting. She came first.

So he strode out of the Whyte Wyrm, determination colouring his every step, until he was outside, in the middle of the parking lot.

The empty parking lot.

 _Shit_ , he thought. _Now what?_

*

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are ❤︎  
> One more to go!


	6. Step Four (and Five)

*

 **Dorothy Shaw** : In bed by nine? That’s when life just begins!

*

**Step Four (con’t)**

Ferret’s apartment was above the garage he owned, to “save on rent,” according to him, since he lived in his work and worked in his home.

They travelled there on the back of his motorcycle, parking in front of the shop entrance. It was Betty’s first time on a motorcycle and she wasn’t sure how to take the experience overall – it was nice, but she always imagined herself tightly clutching Jughead around his stomach with his leather jacket pressed against her cheek, rather than _Ferret’s_ stomach, _Ferret’s_ leather jacket.

He helped her off the motorcycle, and with her hand clasped tightly in his, opened the side entrance to his apartment and led her upstairs, flicking lights on as he went.

“Want a drink?” he asked, moving toward his small kitchen while Betty stood awkwardly in the middle of his bachelor apartment, able to see everything from his bed tucked in the corner, to the kitchen table, the fridge and stove, and the door to the bathroom. The window near his bed did not let in any light, covered with plastic blinds.

“Preferably not a gin and tonic,” she joked, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

He flashed a grin over his shoulder and bent over to look in the fridge, rummaging around as he found a can of Coke. He handed it off to her, found one for himself, and then snapped it open. From the cupboard above, he pulled out a bottle of rum and a glass. At her glance, he said, “For me, babe. Not you.”

She felt a rush of gratitude. _If I drank anything else, I’d be liable to fall asleep_.

They moved towards his bed, which doubled as a couch, and he busied himself with an old-fashioned record player and crates full of vinyl, flicking through them as she reclined on the bed, messing up his sheets.

“What’s your real name?” she asked, leaning back on one hand and sipping at the Coke in the other. She dumped her purse on the floor beside the side table.

He glanced over at her. “Does it matter?”

She shrugged. “It’s an interesting choice, that’s all. Do you choose, or is it given to you when you join the Serpents?”

He found something he liked, and slipped the record from its sleeve and then lifted the needle and arm to place the record down properly. He gave a quiet chuckle, which was more like a huff of air.

“I chose it. There isn’t exactly a rota of names we get in a lottery when we join up,” he said, eyes full of mirth. A folksy song that she didn’t know warbled through speakers on the floor.

“I didn’t even ask – how old are you?” asked Betty, placing her empty can on the bedside table.

“What’s with all the questions?”

Betty shrugged. “I just realized that I know so little about you. About the Serpents, in general.” She reached up and began winding a strand of blonde hair around her finger in a nervous gesture. Her voice fell to a whisper. “I know so little about everything.”

Ferret moved to the front door of his apartment and hit the light, leaving the one over the stove and his bedside table lamp as the only light sources. The light receded quickly and the darkness of the evening spread through the apartment, but to Betty, it was cozy.

“That’s not true,” argued Ferret, moving back towards his bed. He slid sit next to her and gently untangling her finger and hair so that he could wrap his finger around the strand instead.

She sighed, her eyes tired. “Really, _Ferret_?”

He grinned. “It’s Rhett, actually.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “Like _Rhett Butler_?”

He rolled his eyes. “Maybe you can see now what I prefer ‘Ferret.’ It brings up _way_ too many _Gone with the Wind_ references. My high school days were peppered with girls trying to be Scarlett.”

He dropped the strand of hair as Betty giggled. “Poor you.”

“It was horrible!” he continued. “They’d put on fake southern accents and just breathlessly try to say a line from the movie, but other than her line about Tara, what do you remember Scarlett ever saying?”

Betty made her eyes go wide and round, and she clasped her hands to her chest, before breathlessly calling, “ _Oh, Ashley! Ashley!_ ”

Ferret rolled his eyes, but he grinned down at her. “Very funny.”

She preened. “I thought it was.”

The sat in silence in the dark of his apartment for a bit, each lost to their own thoughts. Betty’s grin slowly slid from her face to settle into pensive contemplation. As the alcohol lost its buzz, she shifted on Ferret’s bed and sighed.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” asked Ferret, eyeing her in the dark with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Yes,” she replied quickly, flushing. “Everything’s fine.”

“Mmhmm,” retorted Ferret, shifting so that one of his arms was behind her. He reached across her front to put his glass of rum and coke next to her can of Coke. “Now, that’s a lie.”

“It is not!” replied Betty promptly.

“Pull the other one, Betts,” he said, lowly, using the nickname he heard Jughead call her often in the garage. His breath wafted across her ear and she shivered, clenching her hands on her thighs and curling them in.

“You see, I have eyes,” he continued, moving his head closer to her, his nose nudging her hair to the side and running it along her throat. “And I’ve seen the looks Jughead gives you. And I’ve seen the looks you give him when he’s not looking. So, tell me, Betty – that you’re not wishing that instead of _me_ being in this dark room, on this bed with you, it’s _him_?”

Betty swallowed heavily, her back straight, as he continued to mouth along her neck without pressing any kisses to it, without tasting her skin. “He made his choice.”

“And you thought that I’d be – what?” Ferret moved his hand, the one that reached across her earlier, to move across her tightly clenched hands until he reached her outside thigh, which he palmed. With his hand there, and his arm behind her, he bracketed her in. “Were you thinking that I’d take you back here and we’d have coffee?”

“No, of course not,” she stuttered out, eyes wide and focused over his shoulder.

His breath was hot over her already warm cheeks. “Not coffee? Another drink then – and see where it led?”

“I – Ferret – no, that’s not what—”

“Sending mixed signals now, Betts?” he asked, his mouth hovering over her cheek. “That’s not very nice. Or wasn’t it part of the... _plan_... to make Jughead jealous?”

She quickly inhaled, and turned her head to face his. His eyes were hooded and dark under his floppy hair that fell into his eyes, and he had a knowing smirk stretching across his lips.

“You – you _know about that_?” she gasped.

Ferret leaned back a bit so that he wasn’t crowding her anymore. “Shiv brought it to my attention earlier this afternoon before you northies showed up at the Wyrm, and asked if I wanted to help move things along a bit. I did my part.”

Betty slid her eyes shut and groaned. “ _You’re_ step four?”

She opened her eyes, and he looked positively smug when he nodded, so much so that she reached out and slugged him on the chest with one of her closed fists.

“Ow! Hey!” he pouted. “No fair – I’ve been a great friend, helping you and Jughead out.”

Betty sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” She reached out and patted his pectoral where she hit. “And I’m sorry your part of the plan didn’t quite work out as you had planned.”

“What?” laughed Ferret. “You _don’t_ think Jug’s jealous?”

“No,” replied Betty in a quiet voice, “I don’t think so, at all.”

Ferret shook his head. “Babe, are you blind or what? He was ready to throttle me when we left. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was about to break down the door, screaming about me debauching you and fighting for your honour.”

Betty laughed quietly. “Ferret, you’re real sweet. But I think the... _Bughead_ ship has sailed.”

“Well,” replied Ferret quietly. “Then perhaps you’ll forgive me for this.”

And then he leaned forward and caught his lips against hers.

Absently, Betty noted that his lips were warm, and he tasted of rum and coke, and smelled lightly of leather, oil, and his body wash – but there was nothing else. No spark, no flutter in her stomach, nothing.

He pulled back, sitting a good inch away from her and ensuring his arms were at his side, too. They looked at each other across the dark room, and then began laughing.

“That was terrible, wasn’t it?” she burst out. “Not that the kiss was terrible, but–”

“Yeah, I got it,” he hooted, falling back and clutching his side. “It was like kissing a sister.”

They calmed down and stared at each other goofily. Finally, Betty reached out a hand for him to shake. “Friends?”

He grinned and reached for her hand and then pulled her in for a tight hug, his arm across her shoulder and pressing her into his chest. “Friends, kiddo.”

“Ugh,” she made a face. “Don’t call me that after you just kissed me!”

“Can’t help it,” he replied, “You’re young. A baby compared to me.”

“NO!” she moved to put her hands over her ears. “I’m not listening – I don’t want to know!”

He reached out and tickled her, and they messed up his bed a bit more before finally just lying next to each other. The record finished the one side, and the needle automatically moved up and off to the side for Ferret to flip it.

Betty eventually leaned down and fished out her phone. Kevin had sent her a text, barely five minutes earlier: _Jug’s gone. V spoke 2 him abt 10min ago. He’s on his way._ And then, another, _do u need a ride?_

“Kev’s said Jughead’s left the bar,” she passed on to Ferret, who propped his head up by placing his hands underneath the back of his head. “He’s asking if I need a ride.”

Ferret sighed. “Probably for the best. I wouldn’t mind you staying, but it’ll be awkward with only my bed.” He sent puppy eyes at her. “I don’t even have a couch to crash on, and my poor back can’t handle the floor.”

“Oh, shut it, you,” replied Betty, typing a reply to Kevin, who immediately replied with a less grammatically correct and perfectly spelled, “on my way; meet at the front of the unit by the street.”

She slung her purse over her shoulder and neck to rest it across her body, and stood. “Thanks.”

“For what?” he asked, sitting up.

“For being a friend, and getting involved in this whole thing,” she answered. “You didn’t have to.”

“Ah, Betty,” he grinned, “When are you going to realize? It’s because of _you_. Besides – you’re still the best mechanic I’ve ever met, so you better show up at the shop on Monday.”

“Got it boss,” she saluted him, and moved to his front door when a loud, deep roar broke through the quiet of his apartment. “What on earth?”

He moved to look out the window that overlooked the front of his shop alleyway, pushing the blinds apart. There, coming to a quick halt in front of the garage, was Jughead Jones on a motorcycle. Ferret chuckled. “Still think Prince Charming isn’t coming?”

Betty raced to his side and stared out the window, watching Jughead swing his leg over in a hurried movement. He then shouted, “FERRET! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU BASTARD?”

Betty gasped and moved back from the window, turning to face the older Serpent who had a very small, but satisfied, smile on his face. He turned his head to her and pointed at the bathroom. “There’s a fire escape through the bathroom window. Take it down and make your way around the unit to meet your friend. I’m going to meet Jughead.”

“Are you going to rough him up?” asked Betty warily.

Ferret shook his head. “Not at all. But I’m going to mess with him a bit more before I point him in your direction – I’ll give you a bit of a head start.” He winked. “It’s all about the chase, isn’t it?”

Betty leaned forward and up, and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.”

As she dashed off to the bathroom, Ferret laughed and called, “See you Monday, Betty!”

Once the bathroom door was shut behind her and he could hear her lifting the window up, inch by inch, he turned to his front door, ready for Jughead’s appearance. He ran his hands through his hair a few times to make it messier, and then slung off his Serpents jacket – he had completely forgotten he still had it on – to the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He then whipped off his t-shirt and unbuckled, leaving the belt in the loops but hanging heavily low, dragging his jeans down too, resting on his hip bones. As he went commando, he hoped he appeared suitably dishevelled.

With a grin, he flopped down on his bed, wrinkling it further, and reached into his bedside drawer for a pack of smokes. He lit one and reclined, one arm proper up on a bent knee. He inhaled his cigarette the same time as he inhaled, and his grin widened as he realized that his tickle fight with Betty rubbed her distinct watermelon lemonade scent all over his sheets.

 _It’s almost too easy,_ he thought, feeling a tiny bit sorry for the young man. But then he remembered Betty’s face earlier, and thought, _nah._

* * *

Jughead thundered up the steps to Ferret’s apartment, taking them two at a time, and hoping he wasn’t too late to stop Betty from doing something _he_ ’d regret for the rest of his life.

At the top of the stairs, he began pounding heavily on the door, thankful that Ferret lived in an industrial area and had no neighbours that would call the police to complain about him. It was bad enough that Sheriff Keller and he were apprehensive of one another while friends with his son, but it was another to get a call complaining that Jughead was making a noise disturbance while trying to get back together with his girlfriend.

He banged on the door again, and then – finally – Ferret opened it, bracing one arm against the doorjamb, and leaning forward. “Jug. Hey. What brings you by?”

Jughead’s dark eyes swept Ferret from head to toe in a nanosecond; he took in his messy hair, his bare chest, and even the low-slung jeans on his lips, and his blood immediately boiled. He shoved his way into the tiny space, calling, “Betty? Betts?”

Ferret stood by his kitchen table, watching Jughead glance around his place under his eyes fell on the messy bed. His entire body stilled, and something like horror crept through him, chilling him quickly. He almost swayed on the spot.

“She’s not here,” he heard Ferret say, but there was a rushing noise in his ears and his entire being was focused on the tangled blue sheets of Ferret’s bed, the empty glass on the side table that still had golden liquid pooled at the bottom of it, at Ferret’s discarded t-shirt haphazardly flung away from the bed. His nose twitched, and he smelled it – Betty’s watermelon lemonade scent and in that moment, the rushing in his ears was so great, he couldn’t hear Ferret, or the distant sound of a train going through the nearby tracks, or anything other than his own harsh breathing.

The next thing he knew, he turned to face Ferret and had balled his left fist up, swinging it around quickly. It connected to Ferret’s mouth, and the older man stumbled, clearly not expecting the reaction.

“What the fuck, Jug!” he howled, bracing himself and turning an angry gaze on the younger Serpent. “What the fuck!”

“What did you do!” Jughead shouted back. “How could you? God, she’s ten years younger than you!”

“Oh, so _that’s_ what this is about,” said Ferret, a knowing gleam in his eyes. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, where his lip split, and eyed the blood on it. “Jealous, much?”

Jughead scowled. _Of course,_ he thought – not sure if he was answering Ferret or self-depreciative in knowing how the man would taunt him.

Ferret huffed, straightening up and moving to his bedside table to pull out a cigarette, lighting it as Jughead watched. “She’s not here, Jug. She left.”

“Yeah, after you took advantage of her,” he bit out.

Ferret let out the smoke from his inhale and raised an eyebrow at Jughead. “Can you take advantage of the willing?”

“You _bastard_ ,” seethed Jughead, the same rage beginning to overtake him again.

Ferret rolled his eyes. “What? What, Jug? You wanna stay here and fight me for that girls’ honour, or do you want to go after her? What’s more important?”

Jughead clenched his jaw tightly shut, grinding his teeth together as he did so. “Which way did she go?”

Ferret waved his hand towards the window, lying through his teeth. “I dunno. Towards the street. Probably looking to hitch a ride somewhere.”

“You let her leave like that?!” snapped Jughead. “Without offering to drop her off somewhere? God, what kind of person are you?”

“Betty’s a big girl, Jug,” said Ferret, dryly. “She can handle herself and make her own decisions.”

“It’s nearly midnight and we’re by the edge of town! There’s nothing around here for miles!” Jughead swore under his breath and ran his hands through his hair. He gave Ferret the dirtiest look he could. “God, you’re such a dick. I can’t believe I thought you were my friend.”

 _Man, I hope you explain everything to him, Betty,_ thought Ferret; had this been real, he would’ve felt like a real ass, but... He schooled his features into a disinterested mien, and then said, deadpan, “Frankly, Jug, I don’t give a damn.”

Jughead let out a garbled noise and turned on his heel, running out of the apartment and slamming the door behind him as he left. Seconds later, his motorcycle engine started and he was peeling away from the end unit, back towards the street.

 _These kids are going to be the death of me_ , thought Ferret, sitting on his bed and taking another draw from his cigarette. He raised his eyes to the ceiling in tribute. _Go get ‘er, Jug._

* * *

**Step Five**

Betty checked her phone again for the umpteenth time, wondering where Kevin was; he was officially five minutes late. She found a graffiti-covered bus shelter, the only one in the area, and took refuge inside. A single streetlamp, its light annoyingly flickering, had Betty constantly glare up at it, but she remained in the circle of its glow.

She sighed and checked her phone again. A minute had passed. _Jeez, Kev, where are you?_

In the still of the spring night, Betty heard the strange rumbling of something that wasn’t quite thunder – wasn’t the familiar rev of an engine – approaching her from the direction she walked from. She squinted, and out of the gloom, a motorcycle appeared.

 _Did Ferret change his mind? Is he coming to keep me company?_ She wondered, and then her eyes widened – instead of messy brown hair, the hair was black, melting into the darkness of the evening; it was Jughead.

He slowed, stopping his bike in front of the bus shelter, and kicked the stand out but made no effort to get off the bike. Instead, he and Betty stared at one another.

Finally, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

Her words startled him, and he swiftly stood and moved off the bike, stopping a few feet from her while his eyes looked her up and down. He choked out, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“What?” she asked, baffled. “Who? Who hurt me?”

Jughead’s face darkened. “Ferret. Did he hurt you?”

Betty blinked in confusion. “Nooo....?”

Jughead stepped forward. “No what? No, he didn’t hurt you? Or no, you’re not okay?”

“What? Jug,” protested Betty, eyes wide. She took in his dishevelled appearance and the slightly frantic look in his eyes. She stepped forward, and without thinking about it, cupped his cheek with her hand. “Juggie, are _you_ okay? You seem...”

He swallowed at her touch and closed his eyes. His entire body – his entire being – stilled and he calmed down, secure in the knowledge that she was here, she was touching him. He shuddered, and then opened his eyes.

“I came after you,” he said, the words escaping him without thought. “I went after you – to Ferret’s, and then –” the words didn’t come. He shuddered. “Did you – did the two of you?”

Betty stepped back quickly. “Oh, my God, Jug! You can’t just _ask_ that!”

“Why not?” he snapped out, the anger quickly returning. But this time, she was angry, too. “Why can’t I ask that, Betts? What was I supposed to think – you asked him to take you somewhere and then when I show up at his apartment, he’s half-dressed, and his bed smells like you!”

“He was _what_?” gaped Betty, before swiftly remembering what Jughead insinuated. “No! Never mind that – _you_ ended things with me, remember? _You_. I am free and single and able to do what I want!”

“The hell you are!” he retorted.

Betty’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

Jughead grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, stepping back and out of her immediate space. “God, Betts – it’s been a mess without you around. _I’ve_ been a mess.”

“Why did you do it, Jug?” she asked quietly, not moving from within the safety of the shelter. “Why did you give up on us?”

His eyes, red-rimmed and vaguely bloodshot, darted to her face in shock. “Give up? Betts, that wasn’t me giving up on us – that was me giving us the best shot we had.”

“Your logic escapes me,” she replied darkly, through tight lips.

He flinched at her tone of voice, but licked his lips nervously and began to speak. “Being a Serpent – it’s... it’s not what I thought. At first, having heard everything from Kevin, and my dad, and what I’ve seen growing up in Sunnyside – I was expecting so much more from them. And that after taking that jacket, they’d expect more from me, too. My dad was pretty high up in their hierarchy; having me as his replacement, it seemed inevitable.”

“Jug, you’re _not_ your father,” said Betty quietly. “I thought we both agreed that we’re not our parents? And I think it would be pretty stupid if they just expected you to fill FP’s shoes, especially given your age and lack of _any_ knowledge of their organization.”

Jughead flushed, and muttered, “Yeah, well, now I know it.”

They fell silent.

“You broke up with me on a maybe?” she finally asked, hurt in her tone.

Jughead hunched in on himself. “I guess I did.” He stopped, and then said, “And I hated myself for it the second you turned and walked away that night.”

Betty took a deep breath and said, “I’ve hated every second we’re not together.”

Jughead’s eyes rose slowly until they met hers. She stood nervously in the flickering glow of the streetlamp, wringing her hands in front of her, her hair still messy and shining like a beacon in the dark. He held her gaze, stepping forward and gently taking her hands in his. “Yeah?”

She bit her bottom lip and dropped her eyes shyly. “Yeah.”

He took another step forward, their fronts almost touching. “I shouldn’t’ve let you go.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” she agreed, glancing up at him as he looked down at her.

He untangled his fingers from her hand and slid one up around her cheek to cup at the back of her neck, sliding through the loose blonde hair and weaving the strands through his fingers. “I was an idiot.”

“You were,” she agreed, tilting her chin up, and their exhales mixed; her breath hitched and Jughead’s heart was racing.

“Would you give me another chance?” he whispered, his breath ghosting over her face.

“I think you’ll need to persuade me,” she whispered back, and his lips quirked into a tiny smile, and then the next thing she knew, his lips were pressed against hers – rushed, hurried, wet, and frenzied. His hand tightened at the back of her neck and his other snaked across her waist and then his palm splayed across her back, hauling her in to him so that their bodies were pressed tightly together, not even a sliver of light to be seen between.

He slanted his head and she hers, and she sucked at his lip. He groaned, the noise beginning somewhere deep in his chest and vibrating deliciously against her. His tongue swept into her mouth and she met it with hers, stroking along it and twining around it.

A car honk made the two break their kiss, but not break their embrace. Jughead turned his head to look over his shoulder and saw Kevin half-leaning out of Archie’s dad’s truck, Joaquin peering over his shoulder.

“You kids having fun?” shouted Kevin.

In the back of the cab, Archie and Veronica, mildly drunk, cheered and hollered, and Veronica began mouthing, “call me!” and making the hand gesture for a phone with her thumb and pinky fingers.

“We were!” Jughead shouted back with a disgruntled eye roll while Betty smothered a smile against his chest. He tightened his arm around her and fought a goofy grin.

Kevin grinned and shouted, “Well, take my advice and _get a room_! As a concerned citizen and son of the sheriff, it’s my duty to report any strange going-ons.”

“Right, yes, thank you, Kevin,” replied Jughead.

Kevin turned his eyes onto the blonde held tightly in Jughead’s arms. “Need a ride home, Betts?”

Jughead glanced down at her, and she looked up at him. A small smile appeared on her lips, and without moving her eyes, she called to Kevin, “I think I’m fine tonight Kev. Breakfast at Pop’s?”

“Make it _brunch_ ,” shouted back Archie. “Ooh, greasy good... eggs. And _bacon_. Can we go get bacon now?”

Kevin wriggled his eyebrows. “Until tomorrow, Betty!” he eyed Jughead briefly – a dark gaze but one filled with promise and meaning – and Jughead nodded slowly. Kevin returned the gesture by pointing at Jughead through the open window with the hand not on the steering wheel. “And we’ll see _you_ at brunch, too, Jughead.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised, and then the car sped off, leaving the two alone again. He turned to Betty, who looked expectantly up at him. “Do you want to get out of here?”

She nodded. He slid his hand from her neck and slid his hand instead into hers – and a sense of _rightness_ fell over him. Betty sighed contently, and he knew that she felt it, too.

He helped her on the motorcycle before sitting himself in front. Her arms wrapped tightly around his stomach and he heard her deep inhale against his back, smelling his scent and sighing happily.

“Ready to go with me?” he asked.

He felt her grin and heard it in her voice as she replied, “Anywhere.”

*

Jughead and Betty were the first to arrive at Pop’s, commandeering a booth near the back. He had Betty crowded between the window and himself, arm across her shoulders and she was tightly tucked to his side, one of her legs resting on top of his under the table.

Veronica and Archie appeared next, with Kevin cheerfully following them and talking loudly to their displeasure. They slid into the booth opposite the reconciled couple, eyes beady and bloodshot, taking up as much room as they could. Archie let his head rest on the cool table.

Kevin slid in next to Jughead – the only other free space available, and asked them loudly, “And how are _you two_ this morning?”

Jughead fought the grin that wanted to appear on his face, but Betty beamed at her friend, and Kevin gasped. “O-M-G, are you two hashtag _Bughead_ again?”

Jughead’s face twisted at the name, and Betty just snuggled closer to him in response.

“God, can we just not this morning?” moaned Veronica, who was not perfectly put together that morning.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” replied Jughead with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Had too much fun last night?”

“Ugh,” replied Veronica, turning green.

“You need to tell us!” continued Kevin, ignoring Veronica and Archie, the latter who was hiding behind a large menu. “How did you get back together? Was it romantic? Did he profess his love? Did you seduce him?”

Jughead smirked at Kevin. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Kevin’s eyes lit up.

“But, incidentally, Kev,” continued Jughead, eyeing him and then looking at Veronica and Archie, “There was something that Veronica mentioned last night that I keep thinking about... oh... yes, that’s it... something about a... _plan_?”

Kevin’s eyes went wide, Veronica lurched forward and out of the booth to the bathroom at the back, and Archie moaned from behind the menu.

But Jughead and Betty just shared a look – one filled with _I love you_ s and _I’m sorry_ s, and _I’ll never let you go_ s. It would be several months before Jughead would begrudgingly admit that the plan had worked – and even then, he was adamant that he and Betty fixed things on their own by talking to one another that night, laying out their fears and worries and became a stronger couple because of it.

But to Cheryl, Veronica, Venom and even Ferret (who took Jughead’s apology with equanimity), were confident that Jughead and Betty got back together because of _them_.

(And years later, when Jughead bought the perfect engagement ring for Betty, but sat on it for months until Archie found and mentioned it Veronica, the same group got together and planned Jughead’s proposal to Betty. It was another five-step plan, and just like the first plan they enacted, it worked.

Kind of, anyway – but that’s another story.)

*

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this wee story that suddenly went from crazy shenanigans to plot, and that you'll comment and kudo (they are life, I swear) your thoughts.
> 
> For anyone's interest - the plot between Ferret/Betty/Jughead was from 1959's _Gidget_ film, where I used a similar plot between the Big Kahuna/Gidget/Moondoggy. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to be more active on Tumblr - [writing_as_tracey](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com/) there, too. Say hi!


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